


“I can’t lose you.”

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: First Kisses [3]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 12:51:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14694585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Summary: Continuing the series of shorts of possible first kisses between these two. Got a few ideas. Feel free to submit prompts for anything you’d like to see in the comments below or over on Tumblr at lulacat3.





	“I can’t lose you.”

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vulpes86](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vulpes86/gifts).



> A gift for Vulpes86. Thank you for the prompt! Had fun with this one. Hope you like it. 
> 
> “Could you do one where Strike thinks something happened to Robin and when he finally finds her he just grabs her up and kisses her? Or vice versa? Or both?! <3”

Strike limped down the pavement, his knee aching. He’d been walking around and around the McCaffery place again, still certain the suspect could have got in somehow without being seen on CCTV. He’d soon be within sight of Denmark Street. He glanced at his watch. Half past five. Robin would be gone by now. He was wrestling with the usual internal debate - fetch a takeaway, or get some proper ingredients and cook himself something healthy - when his phone rang. 

It was Robin. “You all right?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m fine,” she sounded slightly out of breath. “Where are you? I just rang the office and you’re not there.”

“Just coming down Charing Cross Road,” he said. “You?”

“Ah, I’m on my way in from the other end,” she said. “Wanted to catch you before we finish for the day. I’ve got some great pictures of Redhead to show you, I think she might actually be—“

There was a muffled shriek and the sound of her phone hitting the floor, he heard the crack.

“Robin?” he called. “ROBIN!”

It had sounded exactly like the night Donald Laing had attacked her. Sheer panic exploded through every part of his body. He broke into a run, sore knee and prosthesis forgotten. He could vaguely hear muffled sounds, voices perhaps? She couldn’t be far, she’d said she was approaching the office from the other end of the street.

He rounded the corner into Denmark Street and saw the little knot of people surrounding the body on the floor, saw the flash of red-gold hair on the pavement. He sprinted forwards, fear writhing in every nerve ending, feeling sick.

“Get out of the way!” he roared at the small crowd, and it scattered as he approached. He fully expected to see her lifeless, the blood...

She was hauling herself into a sitting position, clutching her bag, hand scrabbling for her phone. “Robin?” he cried, dropping to his knees - a stab of pain told him he’d regret that tomorrow - in front of her. The small knot of people that had gathered began to dissipate.

“Fuck,” she muttered. “Wasn’t looking where I was going, stepped off the pavement. Oh, my ankle...”

He couldn’t comprehend anything other than that she was all right, she hadn’t been attacked, he wasn’t going to have to live out his worst nightmare of losing her. Relief surged through him, hit the wall of panic coming the other way, turned his heart upside down. She looked up at him, her face pale, her lips trembling, so beautiful and perfect and whole.

Strike took her face in his hands and kissed her, hard, kneeling there on the street. He kissed her and kissed her and kissed her, pressing his lips to hers, to her cheek, to the skin by her ear, to the edge of her eye, to her cheek again, back down to her lips. She was still here, warm and alive. Tears spilled onto his cheeks, tears of panic and relief and love.

“Cormoran, what are you doing?” Robin managed, her hands coming up to his shoulders. He pulled back a little and she saw his face, saw the fear, the tears, felt the huge shoulders shaking under her hands. “Hey, are you all right?”

Concern for him overrode their usual boundaries. She pulled him into a hug and he buried his face in her neck. His shoulders heaved, just once. She could feel the tension in every molecule of him as he fought for control over emotions loosed by a tsunami of adrenaline. He was shaking like a leaf.

“Hey, hey...” she said soothingly, one hand around his back and the other coming up to cradle his head. She found her fingers tangling into his hair of their own free will, startled to find it soft and pliant where she had expected wiry springiness. She couldn’t stop touching it, stroking his head, feeling his breathing start to ease. He smelled smoky and a little spicy.

“I thought...” he muttered into her neck. His breath was warm against her skin. “It sounded exactly like the night Donald Laing stabbed you.”

Realisation dawned. “Ah,” she said. “Well, this was just me being dopey and missing my footing. I think I’ve really buggered my ankle, though.”

He took a deep, shuddering breath and pulled back, dashing an angry hand across his face. Tears, Strike? he thought. Could you be any more ridiculous? He turned to examine her ankle, glad of an excuse not to look her in the eye. He probed it gently with his big fingers, feeling her wince in pain.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” he said. “Let’s get you up to the office. I’ve got an ice pack in the freezer.”

“Wait,” she said softly, reaching for his arm. She hesitated. Sat on the floor on the street was hardly the place for a deep conversation, but experience told her that if she let this moment go, his shutters would come down again and she’d never get it back. She looked into his eyes, and he dropped his gaze from hers, uncomfortable, embarrassed. “What was that about, just now? You know, the...” - she flushed pink - “the kissing?” She didn’t think she could even talk about the tears.

There was a long pause. Then Strike spoke, very quietly, so that she had to duck her head forward to hear him.

“I thought I’d lost you, for a moment,” he said. “And I... I can’t lose you, Robin.” He took a deep, shuddering breath. “I care about you.” He raised his eyes to hers, and what she saw there took her breath away. “A lot more than I’m supposed to.”

She leaned forward and kissed him.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I stole that line from Jack O’Neill. So shoot me. Best line ever and it just fitted. <3


End file.
